Thursday, January 31, 2008

Therapeutic Venting

I'm sure you've all heard about how we're supposed to write a letter to someone when we're really angry or sad or what-have-you. Then we're supposed to rip it to shreds. Um, not for me, eh? Instead, here's the letter I'm dropping off to my former babysitter/dog sitter.January 30, 2008

Saundra,

I cannot begin to convey to you what you have done to my family. Save your crocodile tears for someone else. Your weeping on Sunday, pointing to four random unknown strangers as the only ones here who would have done it, clearly shows you are only interested in saving your own sorry skin.

The fact is that you let untrustworthy, low-life characters into our house. And I’m not talking about the imagined strangers you and your wonderful friend Victoria keep referring to. I assume they are imagined. But the scum I make reference to are the juvenile delinquents. I’ve learned enough about Jordan and Chris after talking with the police to know the truth about them. “Oh, they’re so sweet and nice.” You let those people into my home. You let them use my computer. You let them wander freely in my home. You are as much a low-life as them.

Where’s all the garbage from this wild party? Why did you dump it, Saundra? I can only imagine it’s incriminating to you, proof that you all were drinking, that you all were smoking dope on my back deck, and that you all were rummaging through my things. I hope the $418 you stole from me scored you some great drugs. Bravo, Saundra.

And why, dear Saundra, did you wipe out the entire Internet history on my computer? Of course, you couldn’t erase all traces, like email addresses used to go onto various websites. Who the hell do you think you are inviting such losers into my house, into my things, into my computer?

Assuming we do not discover other items missing, that brings the total to $899. When you were here lying to us Sunday with your mother, you gave us $320. When you were here Monday with your parents and Victoria and her father, your father gave us another $60. That means you owe us $519.

What I want more, of course, is my security back. What I want more, of course, is for my children to not be afraid in their own home. What I want more, of course, is my engraved iPod back. That was a cherished gift to me from my former employees at The Chronicle. That meant so much to me that I know I’m incapable of properly expressing its value. What I also want more of, of course, is my time back – the time I’ve spent since Sunday afternoon tracking down lies, lies and more lies; canceling credit cards; changing passwords; changing security codes; soothing my children’s fears.

You can never give me any of that. Save the tears for your parents. Perhaps they’ll buy it.

I will be sending copies of this letter to various people, including those in the Girl Scout organization. Obviously, J. and K. have been kept apprised of what you and your wonderful friends have done.

Daughter feels bad for you. She wants to return a CD that someone left in her CD player. My skin crawls when I think of how many people tromped through my little children’s rooms, doing whatever the hell they wanted to do.

Interestingly, Saundra's father called me within moments of my writing this letter. He wanted to know the total damage. We talked for 10 minutes or so. I told him that I'd written a very severe, very harsh letter to Saundra. He sighed heavily and apologized yet again. And then he told me to send it, saying that it wouldn't have anything in it that he wouldn't already be saying to her. I told him how bad I felt for him. Aside from my family, he's the only other victim in all this. A stand-up guy who has watched his daughter fall into a highly undesirable crowd. Did I mention he's a sergeant with the SFPD? Dude is hurting.